


Elf-Friends

by Lumelle



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Multi, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 09:23:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1261201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumelle/pseuds/Lumelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Battle of Five Armies, Fíli is stuck running Erebor while his brother and uncle recover. However, things are somewhat mixed up with the arrival of Tauriel, banished from Mirkwood and carrying a secret. If Thorin can forgive Bilbo, though, surely he can be convinced to accept an elf? (It might be best, however, not to mention that according to elven custom, she is already his niece-in-law -- with quickly growing proof to show for it...)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elf-Friends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [asario](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asario/gifts).



> Written for the ever-lovely Asario, who wanted more Kiliel.
> 
>  **Please note** that this fic contains a description of a battle as well as mentions of threats made against a pregnant woman.

He had lost Kíli.

Just a moment ago Fíli had been right beside his brother, almost close enough to touch, yet now he couldn't see Kíli anywhere. His brother had been swallowed somewhere within the crashing sea of enemies, the battlefield thick enough with orcs and goblins that more often than not Fíli found himself standing upon the corpses of their fallen. It was like Thorin's tales of the battle of Azanulbizar, except this wasn't a story by the campfire or an ancient song; this was blood and smoke and cries all around him, his sword ringing against blackened metal, forged without care or skill only to kill and maim. His head felt almost dizzy, yet he kept himself going, focusing merely on the next clash, the next opponent, next step forward though he had no destination.

Kíli. He had to find Kíli. His brother, his little brother, barely an adult yet, and Fíli had sworn to bring him back to their mother, safe and sound. Right now, it seemed he was quite failing his promise, was failing his mother and his brother and his uncle. Blast it all! He was supposed to be a prince of Erebor, a mighty dwarven warrior if there ever had been one, yet he couldn't even protect the one thing that was the most precious to him.

For a moment, a brief, fleeting moment he wished they had stayed behind, that they hadn't so insisted to follow Thorin. Who cared if they lost or won Erebor, if he would ever see his uncle crowned? The only reason they were here was to find a new home for their people, yet he could not find a home anywhere if his brother wasn't there. Couldn't claim he would ever be worthy of leading anyone at all if he could not even accomplish this little task.

He had almost blinded himself with worry and rage as he heard the sound, relying little on his eyes as he simply slew anything that came his way. The sound of Kíli's familiar voice calling out for him shook him out of his stupor, yet it was the next moment replaced by a freeze as cold as a snowy mountaintop as his ears recognized the tones of pain and fear. Kíli was in pain, somewhere on the battlefield, somewhere near enough that he could still hear him over the clamor and ringing of countless warriors meeting each other with ax and sword and knife. Kíli needed him.

Fíli fought his way through the warriors towards the sound, caring nothing for anyone who came his way other than cursing the precious moments it took him to cut them down. He forced himself through the crowd, seeking nothing but Kíli, yet as he finally laid eyes on his prize he found himself standing still.

Kíli was lying on the ground, almost as deathly pale as he had been in Laketown with the poison still coursing through his veins, a bleeding wound on his side. However, he was yet to be reached by any orc or goblin who might have thought to put such an easy target out of his misery. This was thanks to the tall figure who stood over him, knives flashing as she cut down any foe coming her way, her long locks flying through the air like streams of fire and fresh blood spread by the dragon itself. She was tall and slim and quite without the barest hint of a beard, yet in this moment Fíli could well see the beauty that Kíli had found so easily in her, watching her stand guard over his fallen brother like a goddess of death.

Their eyes met for a fleeting moment above the corpses of fallen foes, and she nodded at him in acknowledgment. "I will keep him safe," she shouted to be heard over the battle. "Go and find your king!"

"What do you care about Thorin?" True, perhaps Tauriel was guarding Kíli as fiercely as a mother bear would her cub, but that was quite different from giving any concern to their uncle.

"This is his quest," Tauriel replied, her lips drawing back in a ferocious grin as she slit the throat of another orc. "And it will irk Thranduil to see him yet stand."

Well. Good to know it wasn't just dwarves who were not the Elvenking's greatest supporters. "Keep him alive," he called back, and yes, it was a plea, earnest as any he had ever made, since he had been but a little dwarfling and begged for his father to return. "I cannot see him fall."

"By my bow, I will see him live," Tauriel replied. "He will not pass lest I have made the way."

Fíli supposed he could not ask for a more binding vow from an archer.

Even so, it was with a cold and heavy heart that he turned, forcing his way through the battle once more to find his uncle.

*

Fíli was looking pale.

Then, Bilbo supposed he could not blame the poor boy. His wounds had not been very severe, yet that had only left him in all the more dire straits as the sounds of the battle died in the cries of eagles and it came time to take stock of their dead and wounded. The Company, as Bilbo had been quite relieved to find, had all lived to see their victory, but many of them were wounded, Thorin and Kíli worst of all. The young prince had almost lost his life, and even Thorin, though less grievously wounded, had yet to wake up properly for more than a moment even as days stretched into a week, then two. This had left Fíli in charge of Erebor and its matters, with neither his uncle nor brother to consult with. The rest of the Company and Bilbo were doing their best to assist where they could, but that could not truly ease the burden of duty and worry and grief that now weighed down on the carefree dwarf's shoulders.

A small, traitorous part of Bilbo's mind dared to suggest that this might have been for the better. For all that he regretted the burden that had been placed on Fíli quite without warning, he doubted Thorin could have handled the immediate concerns quite as well. True, Fíli was a dwarf through and through and had fewglad memories from their time in Thranduil's lair, but he was also not too proud and hateful to see reason. Both the elves of Mirkwood and the men of Dale were rewarded for their efforts rather generously from the gold hoard, and sent off with promises of trade and work to be offered in Erebor once enough of Dale had been rebuilt that they could spare capable hands. Both the city and the mountain would need years to be brought back to even decent standards, let alone their former glory, and all that would doubtlessly be funded by the now very full coffers of the dwarf kingdom.

Bilbo, who had followed part of the negotiations aside from anyone's gaze, was not entirely sure whether Thranduil had been more pleased with the gold itself or the evidence that Fíli was not affected by his family's curse. He certainly had not seemed too displeased to find that he would not be dealing with Thorin, even once it was made clear that Fíli, flanked on both sides with Balin for wisdom and Dwalin for protection, would not be a naive little dwarfling easily led astray.

However, even as their tentative new alliances had thus been kept intact with coin and promise, the work was far from done. There were many to be buried and even more needing treatment after the battle, and though Thranduil had generously offered the use of some of his healers as a seal to their bargain — and doubtlessly to later hold it over Thorin — caring for those not yet fit to work still took up most of the time of those in better condition. Some of the less injured dwarves of Iron Hills had already started their long journey home, while others had thankfully chosen to stay in Erebor, prepared to swear fealty to Thorin once he was well enough to sit upon his throne again. Any pair of capable hands needed to be kept busy; even Bilbo had found himself dressing wounds and stirring stew pots on occasion as the greatest needs came. There was so much to do, and so few to do it, and it fell largely upon Fíli to make sure their available work force was directed to the most dire of tasks at any given time.

It almost made Bilbo feel dizzy as various dwarves started to bring their lists before the regent prince, each of the Company suddenly finding themselves in charge of any areas they might have had any knowledge about. Óin kept track of the healers and the wounded, while Bombur saw to the feeding of the numerous mouths, directing his helpers with the loud voice and long patience of a father of many. Ori had busied himself with making records of those who planned to stay and those who would yet leave once they were fit to do so, of those who wished to bring their families as the opportunity arose, and what manner of work each was willing and able to do so they could be directed to their tasks. Others were starting to inspect the caves and halls for structural damages, finding areas safe to clean and furnish for living, while marking others as needing repairs once they had people to spare for it. And yet for all the work they all did, barely resting even at night despite their various injuries, the last decision of any matter of any importance seemed to fall upon Fíli.

Bilbo was accompanying him now in one such decision, Balin having stepped away to write yet another message to those in Ered Luin. Fíli had spread documents all over the heavy oak table in what had come to be his current council room, inspecting various reports from those of the Company skilled in mining and their assistants. They needed more living quarters, but until there were more people to put to work, they could not get to work in all areas. This meant that every time a new tunnel or hall was deemed clean and safe enough to be moved into, another area had to be already assigned or they would lose precious hours. And Fíli, bearing the duty of the crown though not the title, was the one who had to make the decisions. He had argued that he was far from the most skilled in such matters, but even he had come to understand that symbols were important in such an uncertain time, and the word of the regent, even if not always much better than what might have been reached by a random draw of lots, was still worth far more to the morale of their tired workers than even the more informed opinions of someone less revered.

Bilbo had just given his own careful recommendation for one hallway before others, as it had large rooms suitable for a type of barracks to house more of their workers until such a time that smaller individual rooms and family suites were available to everyone, when a knock echoed from the door. Dwalin, ever watchful for the safety of the last prince still remaining on his feet, made to the door before either Bilbo or Fíli could move. He opened the door with a suspicious grunt, only to meet a dwarven messenger.

"My Prince," the dwarf said, somewhat out of breath. He had to have run over quite some distance, as Bilbo knew well that dwarves did not tire easily. "There is an elf at the gates."

"An elf?" Fíli straightened, a frown on his face. "I thought we had settled the matters with Thranduil and his folk for now." There would be more negotiations, to be sure, about trade and allowances for the passage of the forest, but it had been agreed those would wait until the more urgent matter of immediate repairs had been seen to.

"She says she is not here from Thranduil, Sir, but refuses to give her business to any of us. She wishes to speak with your brother."

"Kíli?" Fíli's eyes widened a fraction. "Tell me, what does this elf look like? What of her gear?"

"She's a woman, far as anyone can tell of them," the messenger replied. "Long red hair, bears a bow. We told her Prince Kíli isn't available, but she says she'll wait as long as it takes." He made a face. "I suspect she might well set up camp if we leave her to wait, Sir. She seemed quite insistent."

"Tauriel." Fíli's word was half a gasp. "What would she…"

"Say, why don't I go see what it is she wants?" Bilbo offered. "It would seem silly for the prince to run any time an elf asks, but if she has proper business, I'll bring her to meet you in Kíli's stead."

"Thank you, Bilbo." Fíli gave Bilbo a grateful glance. As Dwalin frowned, appearing displeased at even as much attention paid to an elf, he scoffed. "She's saved my brother twice, I believe, once in Laketown and once during the battle. It would be dishonor upon my family not to hear her business."

"You." Dwalin gave the messenger a glare as though it had been his fault an elf had come knocking upon the gates. "Take any number of guards you wish, and make sure the Halfling is safe."

"Now, now, I'm sure that will be quite unnecessary." Bilbo straightened first his clothes, then himself. "This is obviously some private business. I will meet her alone, thank you very much, and if for some reason I end up dead you can blame it all on me."

This did not exactly please Dwalin, but Bilbo was insistent, knowing that Tauriel would hardly disclose her business with Kíli while surrounded by angry dwarves. He thus did not stay to hear protests, heading out of the room without waiting for a guide. The mountain was all one big labyrinth, that was sure, but he had at least learned the ways between this room and the outside. It was quite essential to know his way if he wished to get any fresh air and sunshine without always inconveniencing someone who could be attending to much more important things than one little hobbit's comfort.

It was indeed Tauriel, regal as ever in her old attire, though she kept her hands clearly away from her weapons, mindful of the suspicious eyes of dwarven guards. As she saw Bilbo, her expression softened just a little.

"Master Halfling," she greeted him. "Pleased though I am to see the cunning burglar hale and hearty, I do fear I would rather speak with Kíli."

"As I'm sure he would wish to speak with you, but he is still weak," Bilbo replied, a note of genuine regret in his voice. "His injuries were grave, and while the healers assure us he will make full recovery, he still cannot leave the bed and spends most of his time asleep."

"I see." She inclined her head a smidgen. "Is there any of the Company who would hear me without seeing an elf first of all?"

"I believe Fíli holds some gratitude for you," Bilbo replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "He is busy with his duties at this moment, but I promised to take you to him if your business is important enough. Not that an elf of Mirkwood would be likely to appear here for a mere trifle," he added.

"Indeed." There was something almost like sadness in her eyes. "It might be just as well that I am no more one of them."

"What?" Bilbo's eyes widened. "That is — what do you mean?"

"I no more stand for Mirkwood," Tauriel replied, her voice quiet enough that it would not reach the dwarves still watching them closely. "I am no more Captain of the Guard for the Elvenking. All that stands here is Tauriel, an elf who would see a dwarf."

"Oh my. Oh, oh my." Bilbo shuffled his feet. "What ever happened, my dear?" Sure, she was probably many times older than he could ever hope to live to, but something about her, the vulnerable look that had crossed her face for a mere moment, made him feel an almost paternal concern for her.

Tauriel took a deep, steadying breath, then met his gaze head on. He could see no regret in her gaze, but he almost thought he might have detected the slightest hint of fear. "I was banished."

Well. Yes, that would probably do it.

*

"Tauriel." Fíli ignored Dwalin's fierce glare and rounded the table, greeting her properly even as Bilbo closed the door behind them. He knew even without any indication the hallway outside was getting practically full of dwarves, all suspicious about letting their poor young regent close himself up with an armed elf, but the walls and door were thick enough that they wouldn't hear a thing unless someone shouted. "It is good to see you again."

"Likewise." Tauriel offered him a hint of a smile. "Though you'll forgive me if I still would have rather met with your brother."

"No offense taken, believe me. I'm sure he will want to see you, too, though he's still too weak to hold much of a discussion."

"Right." Tauriel drew a deep breath. "I have something quite… personal, I should say, to discuss with him."

"Is it something you could share with me in his stead?" Fíli asked. "Because if so, you have my word that both Bilbo and Dwalin can be trusted entirely."

"Oh, I don't doubt you if you say they can keep a secret," Tauriel replied. "However, I am less certain about how they will react." Though the glance she sent in Dwalin's reaction rather hinted it was not Bilbo she was concerned about at all.

Dwalin grunted. "I'm here to guard the Prince Regent," he said, tone stiff but not altogether cruel. "I have been told you saved Kíli. Unless you pose a threat to my people, I will not raise my hand against you." With the clear implication that he would attack at the first hint of a threat.

"I'm sure that will not happen." Fíli squeezed Tauriel's hand before leading her to sit. She must have traveled far, and besides it was somewhat disconcerting to have her towering over him so. "So. What brings you here? I thought you left with the rest of the elves after the battle."

"And so I did." Tauriel took the seat with the usual elegance of elves, folding her hands on the table in a spot that had yet to be claimed by documents. "However, I did not get to stay in Mirkwood for long."

"She says she was banished," Bilbo said, his tone quiet. Fíli blinked, hearing Dwalin draw a sharp breath.

"You were?" Tauriel's expression did not waver, but she did not deny it, either. "It was… it was not because of us, was it? Because you helped us?"

"I am sure that was a factor in the Elvenking's decision, but it was not the deciding one." Tauriel sighed. "He… believed he had uncovered evidence of my involvement with his son."

"Prince Legolas?" Fíli did remember him looking at Tauriel, at least, and acting quite jealous when she paid attention to Kíli. "He would banish you for that?"

"He has been warning me against encouraging him for a while now. When he then thought he had certain proof that I had given in, he chose to cast me out rather than take the risk of any public attachment between us."

"Right." Fíli nodded slowly. "And was he right?"

"No. I have never seen Legolas as more than a friend, whatever he himself might desire. However, I knew that arguing my case would not help the matter."

"What is it, then?" Bilbo's voice was still quiet. "The evidence, I mean?"

"Some time after the battle, I was examined by healers." Tauriel's eyes remained fixed on her hands. "They… informed Thranduil, without my knowledge at first, that they discovered something besides expected injuries." She paused, but Fíli refrained from speaking, seeing that she was clearly working on words. "They told him I was with child."

The shock of her words was almost a physical blow, forcing the air out of Fíli's lungs. Even Dwalin took a surprised breath, while Bilbo paled. "And… are you?" Fíli asked, his voice weak even as he regained his speech.

"I am." Tauriel sighed. "He assumed Legolas is the father, which would make us as good as married if the word got out. Not even Thranduil is yet rotten enough to have me and the child killed outright, it seems, so he gave me a choice." She paused. "If I wished to keep my child, I would leave his court and never return."

"He cast you out for a child, with winter bearing down." Bilbo stepped closer, setting his small hand on her shoulder in quiet comfort. "That is monstrous."

"Oh, no." Tauriel's features twisted briefly into a look of bitterness. "The monstrous part was leaving me to make my way out of the woods, constantly wondering if he would indeed let me leave or have someone put an arrow between my shoulder blades after all."

"And you came here." Dwalin's gruff voice could never be called gentle, but it was not as harsh as it could have been, either. "Why here, though? I presume you expected to be given shelter for your healing of the prince, which our honor would make your due, but why not go to Rivendell?"

"He is right," Bilbo said. "I'm sure Lord Elrond would not turn you away. And while the way is not easy, you do not seem to be far along yet; a capable warrior could certainly make the way over the mountains, even with winter closing in."

"Because there is more to it than that." Fíli knew it now, knew it from the look on her face, knew it with the same certainty that he knew the stone under his feet. "Isn't there, Tauriel?"

She nodded, wordless.

"You said Prince Legolas is not the father," Fíli continued, keeping his voice calm and measured. "Which raises the question… if not him, who is? Surely you would know."

Tauriel lifted her gaze from her hands at last, meeting his, and there was a sharp pain in her eyes that cut into Fíli. "Yes, I know," she replied, her voice barely a whisper, but it was heard well enough in the silence that had fallen. "There is but one I had lain with before I felt the spark of life within myself… your brother, Kíli of Erebor."

Well. Wasn't this a fine mess.

And yet, he couldn't help but smile, just a little.

*

Everything hurt.

This was nothing new, really. He had vague memories of waking up before, for brief moments though not more, and all such moments had been shot through with the kind of tearing pain he found nigh impossible to ignore.

This time, though, the pain was almost… bearable, he supposed. At least he didn't feel the urge to immediately pass out in agony. The sensation of tearing claws and cold ice that had been his constant companions for a while had subsided, leaving behind a dull ache. He shifted, just a bit, but his limbs felt heavy as though armored with lead. Okay, so not getting up just yet.

He forced his eyes open a little, seeing a stone ceiling above him. That, Kíli decided, was a good sign, or so he fervently hoped. It meant he was either in Erebor or the Halls of Ancestors, and he damn well hoped death wasn't this painful once the actual dying bit had been dealt with.

He heard movement from his side, small and quiet but there, and turned to look, the dim light gentle on his eyes. Bofur was seated in a chair to the side of the bed he was laid down in, arms folded over his chest as he dozed. Kíli blinked, then wet his lips. His first attempt at speaking brought out nothing more than a pitiful croak, but the second one was more successful, though he still hated how quiet his voice sounded.

"Bofur?"

"Huh?" Bofur started a bit, blinking awake. "My prince! You're awake?"

"Not so loud, please…" The exclamation made his head throb. "Where… am I?"

"In what passes for the royal chambers for now," Bofur replied, a grin on his face. "The actual royal wing is in pretty bad disrepair; apparently the worm clawed out a lot of it in his search for more treasure. We still haven't figured whether it should be fixed or if we should just construct a new set of royal quarters; for now you're all set in another part of the mountain."

"Us all?" That… sounded good. "So, uncle and Fíli…"

"Are both alive." And that was the best news he'd had since his first whiskers. "Your brother's running everything, more or less; he's a good lad, that's for sure. Thorin's been much like you, too out of it to understand much of what's going on. We've had a hard time of keeping you fed enough that you don't waste away. Bombur's been quite fretful, he has."

"Right." Kíli swallowed. "And everyone else?"

"The Company's all alive, including our little burglar." Kíli sighed in relief. "We've all been busy running the mountain, though we've all taken turns with sitting beside you and Thorin, so we'll know when either of you decides to wake up."

"Well, I'm up now." Sore and thirsty and absolutely famished, yes, but he was awake. "Don't think I can get up yet, though."

"Aye, nobody's expecting that of you, lad." Bofur stood up, now, striding closer to pat his hand with a grin. "I'll go tell the others, okay? I think your brother's busy with something right now, he always is these days, but I'm sure he'll come by soon as he can. And he's not the only one."

"I'm sure." Something about the way Bofur said that tugged at Kíli's mind, making him suspect this wasn't merely a case of his room getting crowded the moment the rest of the Company got word of his recovery. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Wouldn't put it past you, lad. Stubborn as the stone, Durins are." And yet Bofur flashed him another grin before hurrying out of the room. Glancing to where he had been sitting, Kíli found a half-whittled piece of wood. He'd probably been working on it before dozing off. A top, Kíli decided as he got a closer look. Ever the toymaker.

That was a relief, in a way. If Bofur was spending his time whittling something of as little use as a little toy top, the situation couldn't be very dire. Amusing himself on a campfire was one thing, but if there had still been an urgent need of even basic supplies, he would have put his idle hands to better use.

Of course, that raised the question of just how long Kíli had spent unconscious.

The door was opened, and he turned around, expecting to see more of the Company dwarves rushing in. Instead he was left staring at the beautiful figure ducking through the doorway that was far from tall enough for her. The ceiling was higher, thankfully, leaving her standing beside his bed, tall and regal.

Tauriel. Tauriel was here, clad in the same forest greens he had first seen her in, her hair glimmering like fire in the low light of candles. Fire that, he noticed, had been tamed into braids that did not match what he was used to seeing on her.

"Those are dwarven braids," he pointed out, then wished he could have smacked himself for such idiotic words. Well done, Kíli, that will surely tell her how happy you are to see her.

"That they are," she agreed easily. "They feel strange to my fingers, but the Company thought my wearing them would help the dwarves warm up to me. Dwalin still insists on having someone follow me around all the time; I'm not entirely sure if he wants to protect me from the dwarves or the dwarves from me."

"Knowing Dwalin, it might be either or both." Kíli swallowed, his throat feeling sore and raw. "I… how long has it been?"

"Since the battle?" Her expression turned grave for a moment. "Several weeks, I am afraid."

"What?" Kíli sank back into the pillow, trying to process that. He had been out of it for that long? "How bad?"

"You almost died," she said, her words quiet. At least he hadn't needed to clarify. "As did your uncle. However, you both will live. I've done my best to aid, but all that is left is for you both to regain your strength, and my skills can do little in the way of such recovery."

"Right." He swallowed. "You… how are you here?" Because surely she wasn't here solely as a healer. She was a warrior first and foremost, he knew that much.

"Your brother, as the regent, has given me leave to stay in Erebor," she replied. "He had previously extended the same courtesy to Bilbo Baggins, and seems confident enough that he can convince your uncle not to throw the both of us out as soon as he is on his feet." She paused. "I am not equally confident, but that is what he assures me."

"You're staying here?" Kíli was aware his voice turned into a somewhat awkward little squeak. "But… shouldn't you be in Mirkwood? You're a captain!"

Tauriel sighed. "I am captain no more, I am afraid," she said, her voice soft. "I took my leave after Thranduil gave me an ultimatum I could not abide by."

"And you came to Erebor." He felt somewhat dizzied at the thought. "Why?" Not that he wasn't happy, no, he was ecstatic if anything, but it wasn't…

"That I did." Tauriel reached a hand to touch his, so small and fine for someone so tall and strong. "I wanted to see if you would welcome me."

"Always," he replied, instant and earnest. "I just fear I can't give you what you need."

"And why do you say that?"

Kíli swallowed again, all too aware of how unworthy he was of her. "I can't offer you green forests and meandering palaces," he said, his voice rough from so much use after a long silence. These were words he could not hold back, though. "I can't give you elven philosophies and delicate dances in the night. There is wealth beyond measure I could gift you with, but I don't think that's what you would want."

"That is right," Tauriel said, her voice quiet. "Gold is not what I want."

"So I'll offer you all that is left to me, once I cast aside my share of the hoard," he told her, struggling to keep his voice even. "A strong hand beside yours in battle, a mountain to shield you from the ill will of the Elvenking, the beads of my family for your hair, and a heart that loves you beyond any measure." Battle prowess, home, family, and love. Besides riches, there was little else a dwarf could ever hope to offer to their chosen. "And if the mountain is cold and the beads heavy on your braids… that heart would yet warm you and carry you, if you would allow."

"My, you are turning into quite the poet." A faint smile touched Tauriel's lips. "And you have not yet even asked what I would offer you in return."

"Your presence would be quite enough." He paused, then managed a grin. "Though I wouldn't say no to some company, either. This is an awfully big bed for one small dwarf."

She laughed, then, and the sound was clear as a bubbling river. "Oh, you will not change, will you?" Her eyes were twinkling, though, like two bright stars, or precious gems that belonged only to him. He quite liked that look. "Hear me out, though. I want you to know everything before you make me such offers."

"The offer stands, and will stand until my fall," Kíli replied resolutely. "A dwarf only offers his heart once, and it is not taken back, no matter what."

"We will soon see that, I suppose." She paused, her eyes now where her hand was slowly caressing his. "You remember the night we shared?"

Kíli grinned. "I could never forget, not if they took my head and put a stone in its place." It was true enough. It was burned into his mind, every detail of it, her cool touches upon his burning skin, her mouth covering his, the softness of her breasts under his hands as he became enveloped in her warmth.

"And if I told you that night… bore fruit?"

It took Kíli a moment to grasp her meaning. Then he gathered the clues — the words themselves, the faintest hint of a flush on her cheeks, the other hand lingering so close to her stomach — and gasped. "You are…" He could not bear himself to finish.

"I felt the spark myself," she said, quiet. "At the time I thought to wait until matters settled before approaching you, but King Thranduil's suspicions forced my hand."

"You are with child." He had probably fallen asleep again; there was no way this was anything but a dream. "You're with my child."

"I am." Tauriel's fingertips drew an intricate pattern on the back of his hand. "I… your brother seems to think the fact would help ease your uncle's distaste for elves. If you still wish for me to stay, that is."

"If?" He would have bounced up, except moving anything but his head was still far beyond his strength, and even that only slowly. "Oh, Tauriel, I would have wanted nothing more than have you here with me. To hear that you're pregnant… it seems too good to be true at all."

"So you are not unhappy?"

"Unhappy? Durin's beard, I'm wondering what I've ever done in my life to have Mahal smile on me like this. To have you, and a child with you… even as a little dwarfling I never dreamed of such fortunes."

"I suppose I should warn you, though," she said, a hint of a smile on her face. "Child or no, I'm not about to turn into a peaceful little homemaker with naught to do but be your wife."

"Good." He grinned. "I want my warrior princess just like she is, as scary as she is beautiful. Someone will have to balance Bilbo until Fíli gets his act together, or we'll end up all sipping tea with our pinkies in the air like Dori." Not that Bilbo didn't have steel to him, oh no, but it was always fun to tease him, even when he wasn't strictly speaking there to tease.

"Bilbo?" She raised one perfect eyebrow. "What does he had to do with this?"

Kíli laughed, the action tearing at his throat yet feeling so very good. "Oh, I'm sure you'll find out soon enough," he teased. "After all, I hope uncle's going to wake up soon now that I've done so."

And that would be quite the spectacle.

*

Bilbo was quite sure he had not stared at the dragon with such trepidation as he now looked at the thick wooden door in front of him.

He had been told it was fine for him to enter, had been encouraged to do so, even, yet he felt less than confident. For all that he had been waiting for this for weeks, now that the opportunity actually stood before him he found himself frozen in place.

If Thorin repeated his order of banishment, Bilbo wasn't sure he could take it.

Everyone was telling him that wouldn't happen, of course. Even Dwalin, gruff as he was, had murmured something to that effect, and Bifur had sounded encouraging enough, though Bilbo had made little sense of his actual words. However, having everyone tell him so still wasn't quite enough to overcome the memory of pain and hurt at Thorin's reaction.

And he couldn't even say he hadn't deserved it.

Steeling himself, he finally stepped forward, carefully knocking on the door. For all his fears, he could not bring himself to believe his friends would lie to him, not in something so important. If those who had already seen Thorin said he wouldn't be angry, they had to truly believe so, which meant Bilbo just had to have faith in his friends.

At least they would be there if he got his heart broken again.

Opening the door slowly, he peered inside before stepping through. Almost immediately his breath was stolen away by the sight of the uncrowned king in his bed. Thorin had been propped up with some pillows, half sitting in his bed, his muscular arms and chest bare save for where they were covered by his long hair. At Bilbo's entrance he turned to look towards the door, and his eyes were such a deep, deep blue Bilbo was sure he might drown in them.

"Halfling," Thorin said, his voice sounding raw from both emotion and lack of use. "You… are well?"

"Quite so." Bilbo took a couple of hesitant steps forward. "I was near unscathed from the battle, a terrible thing that it was, never seen something quite that violent. Not very good for my nerves, I'm afraid." He sniffed. "If anything, I could ask the same of you."

"The healers say I'll… recover." Which was probably the closest Thorin could come to acknowledging that he couldn't just rush off as soon as he managed to get out of bed.

"Yes, I heard that, too." He fiddled with the sleeves of his jacket, trying to fight his anxiety back. "You have been sleeping for quite a while."

"So I heard." Thorin closed his eyes for a brief moment, then opened them up again. "I hear everyone is well."

"Indeed. Kíli still needs to recover, but he's doing so at an amazing rate, and everyone else's keeping busy with the work. Fíli is quite the capable regent, you know; you'll find Erebor in good state once you're well enough to take the throne."

"That is good to hear. He will have to take it for himself eventually, after all."

"Ah, yes. He is your heir, after all." Bilbo resisted the urge to squirm. Why couldn't Thorin just say it? He had to know what Bilbo was thinking about.

"You remained." Well, it was close enough to the right topic. "In Erebor."

"Yes, I did." Bilbo nodded, carefully. "I was one of the better off after the battle, so I helped here and there until more people recovered. Lately I've mostly been helping Fíli with his work; there's always need for another pair of eyes and hands to go through all those papers."

"Even after everything I said and did… you stayed."

Bilbo swallowed. "Fíli said I could."

"And did you think I would disagree?" Thorin's words cut right to his core.

"I have been under the impression you do not go back on your word." His voice was quiet enough that he wondered if Thorin had even heard him, until he responded.

"I've been wrong before." Thorin sighed. "I… without you, Erebor might not stand."

Bilbo blinked. "What? No! That's — that's just absurd!"

"True, though. Had you not interfered, we would not have stood against all those I had turned against us. Never mind orcs and goblins, we would have been overrun by old allies if my stubborn hand had not been forced otherwise."

"Yes, well, I did hear what you thought about my interference." And all he had to show for it was a heart torn in two.

"Indeed you did. And here I find myself facing a strange situation… that I was wrong about someone not once… but twice over."

"Thorin…" Bilbo swallowed. What was there for him to say?

"First I thought you but a weakling and a burden," Thorin murmured. "And then a cowardly betrayer. And now that I lie here, alive in a living kingdom, free from any old worms, I find myself lucky that you remained… as I am not yet well enough to ride after you."

"Now, that's just a load of poppycock." And yet, he was blushing. "You would have no reason to do that."

"If you had left, due to my own foolishness? I would ride day and night until I reached you… and then pleaded for your return." Thorin closed his eyes again. "I may have been sleeping, my dear burglar… but not deep enough that I did not dream."

"Oh?" Bilbo wasn't sure he dared to ask. "Dreaming about what?"

"Dark dreams. Brought about by my constant pain, no doubt." Thorin drew a breath. "I saw my sister-sons slain in the battlefield, or Erebor brought down upon itself by the drake's rage. I dreamed of empty halls never to be filled again, of the dead so many there weren't enough living left to even burn them, never mind a proper burial. And… I dreamed of a wealthy kingdom and a living people… but you weren't there, and that cut down even deeper."

Bilbo blinked slowly. "Thorin, what are you…" Except he didn't even know what to ask.

"Mahal, I have been blind," Thorin murmured. "I might have glimpsed the truth for a moment, after I cleared of my obsession with finding Erebor, but then I was taken over by the curse of my blood. I let the gold and Arkenstone consume my mind when the only thing in it should have been you."

Now, that just made absolutely no sense. And yet Bilbo found himself drawn closer, carefully sitting at the edge of the bed.

"It makes no sense, and I know others will disagree." Bilbo had to strain his ears to hear, but he wanted to catch every last word. "After all, who has ever heard of a dwarf whose One is not another dwarf?"

Bilbo shivered. He hardly had a full image of the dwarven culture, but he had already heard of Ones, more than enough so. If Kíli's claim of Tauriel as his One got even the grumpiest of old dwarves to keep their disagreements to private grumblings instead of public protests, it had to be serious indeed.

Thorin's hand moved, not much, but enough to cover Bilbo's. "You are my One, Bilbo Baggins," Thorin said, his voice quiet yet steady. "I was fool enough that it took me a half-death to see it, but if Mahal has had enough mercy to send me back from certain brink, I will not waste such opportunity."

"What do you mean?" Bilbo himself did not manage more than a whisper. "I need you to say it, Thorin, or I will have nothing but my own imaginings. That, or you will later claim you meant something else entirely, if the gold or some other ire takes you over again."

"I want you to stay." Well, that was a good start. "No, I need you to stay. You… I would not live without you, and I dare say neither would Erebor. My heart is yours, because you are my heart, and always will be. I will have no other, from here to the Halls of Ancestors and thereafter, because I could not be complete without you." Thorin's fingers curled around Bilbo's hand, still weak but nevertheless sure in their touch. "Stay with me. Be mine. Be my most prized treasure, before all the riches of Erebor."

Bilbo drew a shuddering breath, then forced himself to smile against the tears that threatened to fill his eyes. "Thorin… if you would allow, I would do nothing rather."

"You will?" And why did Thorin sound so surprised? Bilbo had faced a dragon for his sake, had crossed half the world, when he could have instead stayed back in his little smial, smoking his pipe. He doubted there was any greater show of love and loyalty one could have asked of a hobbit.

"I will," he promised. "Though I hope you will not change your mind this time."

"If I do, I'll have others enlisted to smack me until I see sense." Thorin gave him a lop-sided smile.

Bilbo managed a chuckle. "I might do that myself, if you told me to go. I've been ordered around one time too many by stubborn dwarves."

"And yet here you are, so you must be made of something quite special indeed."

"Yes, well, Gandalf certainly thought so, even though I'm not sure this is what he had in mind." Bilbo brought his other hand to settle over Thorin's. "…You should get more rest; your eyes are almost closed as it is. I promise I will still be here later."

"Yes, I suppose I could trust your word on that." Thorin blinked slowly, eyes heavy. It seemed the discussion with Bilbo, and those with various dwarves before it, had indeed sapped the last of his energy.

"Perhaps when next you wake, we'll have some proper food for you, not just the broth I know you were offered earlier. Bombur has been looking forward to feeding you."

"I await his food eagerly." Which probably was true enough. For all that Thorin was not one for gluttonous feasts, certainly not in the way the rest of his Company enjoyed them, it was hard to dislike Bombur's quite excellent food.

"Oh, and Kíli wants to marry Tauriel before their child is born," Bilbo added, doing his best to sound nonchalant. "But apparently elves bear for a year, so there should be enough time to put together a proper wedding before then."

"Well, that's good," Thorin gruffed, his eyes already almost closed, then paused as the words started to sink in. "Wait, Kíli wants to what? Before what?"

So apparently none of the dwarves before Bilbo, not even Fíli, had thought to break the news to Thorin. Marvelous. Of course they left such matters to Bilbo.

But hey, at least Thorin hadn't immediately reached for a sword. Not yet, at least.

Baby steps.

*

The last time Dís had seen the gates of Erebor, she had been a princess with nothing to care for but the fit of her robes and the sharpness of her ax.

As she now neared it at the head of the caravan she was a widower, with two grown sons and a brother who stood as King. It was, she decided, not entirely an unpleasant change, even if she was going to let both said sons and the brother hear exactly what she thought of them and their tendency to get themselves almost killed. They had not been entirely forthcoming in their letters, but she had gathered enough to know just how close she had come to being the last one standing in her family.

There were plenty of people gathered at the gates, ready to welcome their friends and families, but her eyes sought out very particular figures. She found them easily enough, right in the middle of everyone, with Dwalin standing guard tall and bald as always. They were not alone, either, she noticed with some curiosity. Though it was too far to see much, her recognition of her family based mostly on the sight of Thorin's regal robes and crown with one golden and one dark head next to him, she could tell there were two others standing with them. One figure was smaller than an adult dwarf, while the other was clearly big folk, taller than even Dwalin in all his intimidating bulk.

If they thought to save themselves from her lecture by distracting her with guests, they had another think coming.

"Sister!" Thorin boomed as soon as she was close enough, spreading his arms in greeting. "Welcome back to Erebor!"

"Brother." She waited until she was close enough before answering, not wishing to yell like him. The small figure was a halfling, she realized, the curly hair and bare feet clear enough a sign even though she was hardly an expert in such matters. Yet he was clad in what was clearly dwarven finery, a rich tunic over practical trousers and a fine shirt, a braid woven into the hair that was just barely long enough for it. "I see you are back on your feet."

"At last, yes." Thorin was thinner than before, that much she could tell even through his layers of clothes, but his eyes were bright and the smile on his face almost reminiscent of the days of their youth.

"Good. I would have hated to drag you out of bed for your well-deserved lashing." The crown suited him, she decided with a critical eye. It was finer than the one Thror had worn, silver and sapphires the exact shade of his eyes. All the better. She wanted no reminder of all that greed for wealth and power, not when they were supposed to be building new lives for everyone.

"Aw, don't be so harsh on him, Amad. Uncle's had a bad time." And that was all the warning she got before she was assaulted by two grown dwarrows, really, they hadn't changed a bit since they were barely tall enough to reach her knees. It was a good thing their absence hadn't let her soften. Dís braced herself against the impact, welcoming her sons with open arms, ruffling their hair while they both sought to hold her as close as they could.

"Oh, I'm sure. He always had a knack for getting himself in bad places." Her eyes flitted toward the two unexpected additions, the halfling and what she now saw was an elf, likewise dressed in more dwarven fashion than she had ever seen from one of the pointy-ears. "So, shall I have to add on a lecture about introducing people properly?"

"Forgive us. We were too overcome by joy to remember such basic niceties." Fíli drew away from her at last, grinning as he gestured toward the halfling. "This is Bilbo Baggins, the burglar of our Company. Well, that's why he joined us, at least; there have been some changes since then."

"Oh?" The braid in the halfling's hair was one she recognized. It would have been hard not to; a courtship braid was one of the most basic things any dwarf learned to put in another's hair. "And exactly who do those changes pertain to?"

Thorin cleared his throat, reaching an arm around the now somewhat flushed creature's shoulders. Well, then. "Sister Dís, let me make known to you Bilbo Baggins, son of Bungo, a gentlehobbit of the Shire," he said, his tone more formal than she had heard from him in ages. "He is also my One, and my intended consort, once Erebor has been repaired to such a state that it will be fit for the celebrations."

"My pleasure," the halfling murmured, giving her something between a bow and a nod. She'd really have to learn him out of that; the consort of the King Under the Mountain had no cause to bow to anyone at the very gates of Erebor.

"Well. I'm sure there is a longer story behind this than what is fit to tell while we are all still on our feet," she declared. "Just as I'm sure there is a long story to explain why I am also greeted by an elf." Especially now that she was close enough to see the courtship braids there, too. What was this world coming to?

"Oh, that one is actually rather simple." Fíli grinned. "You see, Kíli got almost killed. Twice, in fact. And Tauriel here was kind enough to save him both times."

"Someone had to," the elf remarked, a hint of amusement on her fair face. Dís supposed she was pretty enough for someone with nothing in the way of beards. "Goodness knows you would have made the dragon deaf with your wailing if I had failed."

"Are you telling me," Dís made sure to keep her words slow and measured, betraying little emotion at all, "that you decided to court an elf because she saved your brother?" And who was she going to scold for that?

"No, no, nothing like that." And now it was Kíli hurrying to speak. "No, it's me who's courting her." And then he was standing by her side with a couple of skipping steps, a bright grin on his face as he reached an arm around her, even though he looked like little more than a child next to her much taller frame. "Figured it was only proper, on account of the baby on the way and all."

"The baby." Dís looked at him, then at each of the others in turn, careful to keep her face blank. Even Dwalin got his share, and seemed to resist the urge to squirm. It was good to know they hadn't lost their very healthy fear of her, at least. "You are courting an elf because she saved your life and you got her pregnant."

"No." She had to admit she was somewhat surprised by the firm look in Kíli's eyes, the determined set of his jaw. "I am courting her because I love her and she is my One, in this life and beyond."

Dís allowed a pause, then let her smile show, clapping her hands together. "Well then! It's a good thing I got here; there's no way you dunderheads could ever hope to put together even a single wedding, never mind two. Now let's all get inside from this crowd. I expect a proper tankard or two while you fill me in on the details, so don't disappoint me, lads. You're still not too big to have your bottoms swatted."

There was a moment of silence, then Fíli and Kíli broke into half-hysterical laughter, even Thorin allowing himself a smile. Only the halfling and the elf seemed still the slightest bit confused by this turn of events.

Poor things. They would just have to learn to cope.

If they had been insane enough to accept courtship offers from men of Durin they had nobody but themselves to blame.


End file.
